The Nightwind's Woman (4 page)

On the wall behind her was what she thought
a flat-screen television. On the wide screen was the face of a man she
recognized. It was the man who had called himself the Supervisor, the man who
had brought her—wherever the hell she was.

“Your purse is on the table by the door if
you have need of it,” he told her quietly.

Swinging her legs from the very comfortable
hospital bed upon which she was lying, she slid to the floor, hurrying over to
the table. She grabbed her purse—feeling grounded by the familiarity of her
possession—and clutched it to her like a lifeline.

“Where am I?” she demanded.

“Tearmann. Just relax. I am on my way to
you,” he said then the screen went black.

“Wait!” she yelled. She reached for the
doorknob and found the portal locked. Jerking the knob, she cursed beneath her
breath, pissed that she couldn’t get out.

Fury lashed through her—along with an
uneasy feeling that she had fallen all too willingly into some weird, dangerous
trap.

“Hey!” She kicked the door. “Open the damn
door!”

She heard a click as the lock disengaged
and she stumbled back, heart racing so hard in her chest she thought it would
rip free of her ribs. As the door opened, she held her breath but it was the
smiling face of the Supervisor that greeted her.

“The door was locked for your protection,”
he said. “A prisoner from level ten escaped her cell and she’s running around
up here. We didn’t want you waking up to encounter her standing over you.” He
shrugged. “She wouldn’t hurt you but seeing her might well have stalled your
heart.”

“You have prisoners here too?” she asked,
wondering how hideous the creature had to be to stall a heart.

“A few. Some—like the
baginis
—are
quite dangerous and though not always lethal, still pose problems for the human
population so they must be contained.”

“What is a
baginis
?”

“She’s a creature from Australia. She has
the face and breasts of a human but the rest of her looks more like a shaggy
ape with mange. She has talons and oversized feet with very long toenails. She
has a nasty habit of raping men.”

“Oh, for joy,” she said.

“Kayle is after her and he’ll catch her,”
the Supervisor says. “He always does. I think she escapes just so he’ll be
forced to come after her.”

“Kayle is your alpha dog,” she commented.

The Supervisor chuckled. “He would be
insulted by the term. Nightwinds shift into feline form. If you see a large
black Maine coon-type wondering around the corridors, more than likely it will
be him.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You ready for your tour?”

She took a deep breath. “Yes sir. I am.”

“We’ll start on this level and work our way
down.”

“We’re on the top floor then.”

He grinned. “Yes but that floor is fifty
feet below ground.”

“I did mention I was claustrophobic, didn’t
I?” she mumbled.

* * * * *

The
baginis
peeked around the corner
then snapped her head back. Her tracker was down the corridor, coming straight
toward her hiding place. Sliding back along the wall as quietly as her long
toenails would allow, she went back into the storage room from which she’d just
exited. Holding her breath, she twisted the lock although she knew it was
useless. It was all over for this round. He’d now make it harder than ever for
her to get free. Her shoulders drooping, she slumped against a shelf and waited
for him to come pouring under the crack in the door.

“Bastard,” she mumbled around viciously
long fangs.

At least, she thought, she’d had one nummy
this outing. Last time, he’d caught her before she could find and capture a
male. She put a large hand to the juncture of her legs and rubbed. Her cunt was
still wet with cum and she brought her hairy palm to her nose to inhale deeply.

“Sweet,” she said with a sigh. “So sweet.” She
flicked her rough tongue over the wetness just as black mist began wafting
under the door.

She watched him begin to materialize with
disinterest. Of all the males at the institute, he was the only one she had no
desire to take for he was the only one she feared although she enjoyed their
occasional hide-and-seek adventures. As soon as his angry face took shape, she
pursed her lips.

“I don’t need another one of your fucking
lectures, Kayle,” she snapped. “I needed a cock and I took one. I am what I am.
It is my nature to do as I do.”

“As it is my nature to stop you,” he
growled back at her and snaked out a strong hand to shackle her thickly matted wrist.

Feet dragging, she made no effort to escape
him because she knew it was impossible.

“What I should do is ask Eingana to sever
the sinew that attaches you to her,” he threatened.

“The creator goddess wouldn’t listen to a
piece of offal like you, Nightwind,” she said with a grunt. “I am one of Her
children.”

“Then I’ll ask Baiame,” he countered.

“Hush!” she gasped. “Do not speak His name
aloud, fool!”

“Like I’m afraid of Him, wench,” he
scoffed. He unlocked the door, yanked it open then jerked her through the
opening.

“You should be,” she said as he dragged her
along. “
Lulli
.”

He stopped, turning to give her a mean
look. “Call me that again and I will hurt you.”

She lifted her head, tossing the mane of
long, shaggy red hair but she did not repeat the insult that had called him a
pussy boy. Her nasty smile said it all for everyone knew Nightwinds were extremely
sensitive about that side of their dual natures.

Brutally tugging her behind him, she could
hear his fangs grinding. His fingers were like iron bands around her wrist and
he was exerting tight pressure in a useless attempt to cause her discomfort.
The pain didn’t bother her. She reveled in it, twisting her wrist within his
hold to experience even more.

“You been a bad girl again, Arika?” a
cocoto
demon asked as they passed him. He wobbled a claw at her. “Naughty, naughty.”

“Leave her alone,” the Nightwind growled.

“Help me and I’ll give you the ride of your
life,” she offered.

“Not me, wench!” the demon said with mock
horror. “Best you ride the wind.”

She spat on the floor. “I would not give
this dickless wonder a second look. He leaves much to be desired with his
fucking attitude!”

“Did you not hear?” the demon queried,
ignoring the warning. “Maybe he’ll be in a better mood from now on. His human
is finally here.”

The Nightwind came to a stop, whipping his
head around to stare at the demon. “What did you say?”

The demon shrugged. “She’s taking the grand
tour even as I speak.” His eyes glowed a phosphorescent orange. “Can I have a taste
of her before you ruin her?”

Ignoring the
baginis
jerking against
his hold, trying to twist free, the Nightwind glared at the water demon. “Go
near her and I will crush you to paste,” he warned the sexual demon.

The
cocoto
grinned then made kissing
motions with his thin lips. He batted his long lashes at the other demon.

“Fuck you,” the Nightwind snarled. He
continued down the hall, a muscle grinding in his cheek as the
cocoto
laughed.

“Better watch your woman, Nightwind,” the
baginis
said slyly. “Dhiren has a way with human females.”

“Shut the fuck up,” he ordered, “or I’ll
knock the fangs out of that nasty mouth of yours.”

She threw back her head and howled.

No one—and nothing—else spoke to them as he
dragged her back to her cell on the next to the lowest level of the institute. Those
they passed hurried away, not wanting to have the anger they saw flashing in
the Nightwind’s wicked amber eyes bestowed upon them.

Slamming the
baginis
’ cell door shut
then lowering into place all the bars and engaging each of the five locks, he
closed the peephole as well, vowing to find whoever let the succubus out of her
cell and tear off his ears. There was no doubt in his mind that it was a male
who set her free.

His head aching brutally, he put a shaking
hand to his temple.

“Why didn’t I sense her?” he asked aloud.

He concentrated but could not detect her
presence no matter how hard he tried. He frowned, scrubbing his forehead with
the tips of his fingers. It wasn’t just the headache from hell that was
throbbing inside his skull. That was a distraction—albeit a very painful
one—but one that should not be preventing him from perceiving his lady.

Pissed, his shoulders tight and fists
clenched, he took the elevator up to the top level, irritated even more that it
seemed to take forever. To further annoy him, the first face he encountered
when the titanium doors shushed open was one that set his nerves on edge.

“Well, if it isn’t Lord Breakwind,” the
bastard said as he blocked the Nightwind’s exit. “I thought I smelled something
nasty coming up the elevator shaft. Should have known it was you.”

“Eat shit and die, Reaper,” the Nightwind
hissed, shoving his enemy out of the way. He bulldozed past the warrior—hoping
the shape shifter would jump him so he could beat the prick into the concrete
floor.

“If you’re looking for that pretty little
human,” the Reaper said, “she took one look at me and decided she’d rather have
me than you.”

He glanced back to see the Reaper standing
with his arms crossed, a hateful grin on his chiseled face. He lifted his hand
and stabbed a finger at the warrior.

“Testes, testes, testes,” the Reaper said
with a slow shake of his head. “Not very big ones, true, but at least you’ve
got a pair. Who knew?”

Digging his talons into the palms of his
hand, the Nightwind pivoted around and stomped off. The last time he and the
Prime Reaper went at it, they’d both wound up in containment cells, howling at
the injustice of being caged and riddled with the acute pain being without
Sustenance could bring. He really didn’t want a repeat performance and he
doubted the Reaper did, either.

“Give her a little nip on the neck for me,
will ya?” he heard the bastard call out. “That’s if she accepts you!”

“Asswipe,” he labeled the warrior.

“
Fuckhead!
” came the immediate reply
thundering through his aching brain.

Going into reception, he leveled his angry
glower on the woman behind the desk. “Where is she?”

The woman blinked behind her designer
frames. “Who, milord?”

“My woman!” At her blank stare, he had to
tamp down the urge to do the overweight female bodily harm.

“Which one of the new potential hires is
yours?” she asked.

“Her name is Delaney. Mother’s maiden name
Thompson!” the Nightwind yelled.

“Oh, she’s with the Supervisor,” she
replied, pushing back from the desk as though he might attempt to reach across
to grab her by her neck.

He had to force himself not to do just
that, to modulate his voice instead of bellowing at her. “I know that, Audrey,”
he said in as civilized a tone as he could muster. “Where are they
now
?”

“Level two, I believe,” Audrey Holt said
and her chair rolled another foot from the desk. She resembled a rabbit perched
to run from a predator.

He started to turn then stopped. “You said
two new hires? Who is the other?”

“Lord Sorn’s Extension,” she replied. “Ellery
Vance.”

“The Reaper’s being given a partner?” he
repeated, stunned at the news.

The woman lowered her voice. “She’s a
witch.”

He flinched. That wasn’t good. “Thank you,”
he said through clenched teeth.

“You’re welcome, milord,” she said as he
stomped out of her office.

Cursing under his breath, he strode back to
the elevator and stabbed the button repeatedly, taking some degree of pleasure
in the vicious action. When the cage opened, he was disappointed there was no
one there upon whom to vent his rage. Instead, he took it out on the button
that read Level Two, pushing it just as many times. The doors closed on a demon
with glowing red eyes and a facial expression that would have given the
stoutest man a heart attack.

“I’ve waited a lifetime for her,” he
muttered. “Why didn’t I know she was here?” Sorn knew it before him. He
wondered if Sorn knew his own life-mate had been brought to Tearmann.

Not that he cared. He hated the Hell-Hound
Reaper Darkyn Sorn as much as Sorn hated him.

The cage stopped on Level Two and he hissed
when the door didn’t open as quickly as he thought it should. Shoulders
hunched, he strode out and whipped his head from side to side, searching for
his target. With no one in sight, he released a low, deadly growl and pivoted
to the left, hands clenched into fists.

“Very nice,” Kenzi said as she viewed the
cafeteria where each individual table was spread with a pristine white tablecloth
and bore a copper pot of freshly cut peach-colored spider mums. She ran her
hand along the tall back of one of the chairs that had a plump floral seat
cushion in bright colors.

“You can call down to the desk and have
your meals made to order,” the Supervisor said. “If you want to eat here, it
will be waiting when you arrive or it will be brought to your office or
apartment.” He indicated the long steam tables. “Or you can do the buffet. Each
day is a different international cuisine. We have Chinese, Mexican, Italian,
Thai, Greek, French and—my personal favorite—American Mix. That could be
anything from Southern soul food to good, hearty Midwestern fare.”

“It smells heavenly in here,” she observed.

“Supper is usually a one-culture deal and I
believe that is General Tso’s chicken wafting through the air.”

“I am addicted to hot and sour soup,” she
said with a sigh. “That’s comfort food to me.”

The Supervisor grinned. “Then you’ll love
our chef May Woo’s version. It will clear your sinuses in the blink of an eye!”
He put a hand to her back. “Let’s go take a look at the spa.”

Kenzi’s head was spinning already. He’d
shown her the offices—the brain as he called it—on the first level and then
taken her to the shops, gymnasium, cocktail bar and cafeteria on Level Two.
There was even a skating rink and an indoor mini-golf course. She knew there
were spas, barber and beauty shops as well as several other specialty stores on
that level.

“Housing for general staff is on Level
Three. Your apartment is with senior staff on Level Four.”

“What about your operatives?” she inquired
as they walked out of the cafeteria.

“They are senior staff.” He told her Level
Five was the medical facility and she was anxious to get there. “Levels Six and
Seven with Level Eight having the containment, holding and incarceration cells.”

“There are eight levels then.”

“Actually,” he said as they reached a door
that had a gold plaque indicating it was the spa, “there are ten levels with
the lower levels used for storage and maintenance respectfully. We don’t count
the lower levels as being part of the facility proper though.”

“A huge underground complex,” she said.

“Imagine the Pentagon times two,” he
replied.

She whistled, stunned at such news.

They entered the spa area on Level Two and
Kenzi was taken with the calming scent of lavender floating on the air, the
subdued lighting and pale-blue decorating scheme. She smiled at a woman sitting
behind an ornate Louis XIV desk and shook hands with her when the Supervisor
introduced them.

“We have everything an upscale spa would
have,” the woman said. “Would you like to see one of our private rooms?”

“We don’t have the time now, Lani,” the
Supervisor said. “Just wanted to give her a look-see.” He opened the door
leading to the corridor.

“It was nice meeting you, Dr. Delaney,” Lani
said with a warm smile.

“Everyone is so nice here,” Kenzi said as
she and the Supervisor headed for the elevator.

“I won’t tolerate workers who aren’t,” he
replied. “It’s bad enough some of our operatives have foul tempers so…” He
stiffened then swiveled his head. “Speak of the devil.”

Kenzi turned to look where he was gazing
and felt her heart thud heavily against her rib cage. Her lips parted. She
lifted her hand to splay the fingers over her chest.

The man coming toward them was dressed entirely
in black with a gold buckle on his belt lending the only color to his attire.
He moved without making a sound—his boot heels silent on the terrazzo flooring.
As he came closer, she could see the dark amber of his eyes and they were
boring into her like live coals.

It wasn’t his height or the broad width of
his shoulders, the narrowness of his waist or the muscles bunching in his
thighs as he walked that seized her attention. It was a face that was
movie-star perfect with high cheekbones, long dark lashes framing those golden
eyes, a strong, masculine nose and chin with a deep cleft and full, sensuous
lips that held her spellbound. As he reached them, she could see dimples
bracketing his cheeks when he pursed his lips.

“Why didn’t you tell me she would be here
today?” he asked in a thick brogue that made Kenzi’s womb clench. He flicked an
annoyed glance at the other man before fusing his gaze with Kenzi’s.

“I figured you’d know,” the Supervisor
snapped. “Dr. Delaney, this is one of our Alpha agents, Randon Kayle.”

She extended her hand—not in the least
surprised that his engulfed hers as he took it.

“Welcome to Tearmann, Kenzi,” he said then
lifted her hand to his lips, turning the wrist to place a light kiss on the
pulse point. “I have been waiting for you.”

“Did you take care of the situation?” the
Supervisor asked.

“Aye,” Kayle said without looking at him. “She’s
back in her cell.”

“Who let her out?”

“I haven’t had time to find out but I will,”
was the offhand reply.

Kenzi was more than aware Kayle still had
her hand firmly in his—her fingertips tingling—and she tugged gently, smiling shyly
when he seemed reluctant to release his grip. Her flesh felt overly warm as he
did.

“Has she seen her quarters yet?” Kayle
asked. His gaze was roaming over her face as though he were searching—or
memorizing—it.

“No, Kayle. In case you don’t know where
you are, we are on Level Two,” the Supervisor said drily.

“Then I’ll take it from here,” Kayle said. “You
can go.”

Kenzi saw the Supervisor’s left eyebrow
shoot up. “Oh, I can, can I?” he asked in a voice that sounded suspiciously
like a warning to her.

Kayle ignored the tone and the look aimed
his way. Kenzi had the feeling that was not an unusual occurrence. She was a
bit surprised when the Supervisor let it ride.

“When you’re finished, bring her to my
office,” he ordered before walking away.

“Will you get into trouble for that?” she
asked Kayle.

“I was born in trouble,” the Nightwind
quipped. “Let’s take the stairs. There’s something you should see.”

He led her to the stairwell door and opened
it for her. She could feel the heat of his body behind her and a sensuous, very
masculine scent tickling her nose.

“Each stairwell has a weapons case,” he
said, “to go along with the fire extinguishers.” He pointed to a glass-enclosed
container hanging on the wall beside the door. The container held four
off-looking guns. “Those are heavy duty tranqs. Each gun holds forty hits of
pairilis. You were given the drug?”

“All I remember is the sting of the needle
and nothing else,” she said.

“The Class Two version works fast on
humans. On nonhumans it takes a few seconds but is just as potent. The doses in
these guns are Class Four. They would stop a rampaging elephant in mid-run in
less than a second. They will stop one of the non-humans found here in two.” He
grinned—the deep dimples showing. “That’s why they’re called two-step darts.”

“So you just break the case with…” She was
looking for something with which to break the case.

“The glass is indestructible. The only way
the case can be opened is with a keycard. You swipe your keycard down the slot
on the side.” He showed her the slot. “Each keycard is designed with a heat-sensitive
grid inside it—a network of tiny microfilaments. The grid only works with the
unique heat signature of the card owner. You could swipe my card down it all
day and the case would stay locked. Run yours down it with your own hand and it’ll
pop open.”

“Which keeps stolen cards from being used,”
she said, marveling at the invention.

“Precisely.”

“Alien technology?”

“Alien technology,” he agreed. “We’ve lots
of that around here.”

“What are the chances of me needing to use
the tranq?” she asked.

“Very low but I wanted you to be aware the
protection is there if you feel you need it.”

“Good to know,” she said as she started
down the stairs at his side.

They were silent until they reached the
door leading to Level Three. She looked up at him.

“Why do I feel as though we’ve met before?”
she asked. “Have we?”

“We’ve never been introduced before today,”
he answered. “You’ve never seen me in person although I’ve followed you on
several occasions.”

“During the vetting?” she queried.

“Maybe,” he lied.

They entered the Level Three corridor but
he made no move to venture down it. Instead, he went to the elevator and pushed
the down button.

“These are general staff quarters,” he
said. “Nothing to see, really. They each have what is basically an efficiency
apartment. There are a few husband-and-wife teams and a couple of husband-and-husband
teams. In the case of two people sharing, the apartments are a bit larger.”

The elevator door opened and he ushered her
inside.

“How many people work at Tearmann?” she
inquired.

“Including the operatives, around six
hundred.”

She blinked. “That’s a lot of salary.”

“Aye, it is.”

Kenzi was all too aware of him towering
above her five-feet-six-inch frame. When she looked up, she found him staring intently
at her.

“Where are you from?” she asked. The accent
sounded as though it came from the highlands of Scotland but she very much
doubted that was his home.

“Reannag,” he answered then smiled as the
elevator settled. “In a galaxy far, far away.”

“Is that where all Nightwinds are created?”

He shook his head. “No. My kind come from
all over the Megaverse though we all have three things in common that made us
what we are.” The doors opened and he indicated she was to precede him.

Level Four’s hallway was carpeted in a
plush celadon green and the walls were papered in a soft-beige floral with
copper lighting above each paneled door.

“Lovely,” she said, sniffing the air. “It
smells like jasmine.”

“The air freshener system rotates through
several different floral scents on the hour—honeysuckle, jasmine, banana vine
among them.

“I like it.”

“It’s meant to calm and soothe.”

He led her to a door marked with a small
copper panel that had her name etched in the metal.

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?”
she queried.

“You’re going to accept the contract,” he
said with supreme confidence. “Place your hand against the panel.”

Kenzi’s eyebrows shot up but she did as he
asked and the door opened. She sent him a surprised look.

“Your palm was scanned while you were on
the way here,” he told her. “The scan was programmed into the system and I
would imagine by now, your keycard is being prepared.”

“Moving too fast, Agent Kayle,” she said as
she motioned him into the apartment ahead of her.

“Just Kayle,” he said then shrugged. “Or
Rand. I’ll answer to either.”

Kenzi entered behind him and stopped dead
in her tracks as she took in the great room of the apartment. Her eyes widened.

“Holy guacamole!” she whispered.

The room was huge with a wide span of
windows at one end overlooking a pristine blue lake upon which rain was softly
falling. Running parallel to the windows was a lap pool with gently undulating
water slapping against the sides of the dark-blue tile coping.

She turned to stare at Kayle.

“It’s a computer program,” he said and
walked to a table to pick up what looked like the remote control for a
television. “You have several options.” He pressed in a number and the scene
beyond the windows turned to an autumn forest with leaves falling silently
among the tall crimson and flame maples. He pressed another number and the
scene changed to a snow-capped mountain range upon which snow fell. Pressing
yet another button, there was the sound of the snow tinkling against the
windows. “There are buttons for softly booming thunder, wind howling in the
eaves, the sounds of birds in the forests, and the patter of rain falling on
stone. None of the sounds are on a loop but are random so the brain cannot
anticipate a pattern.”

“Whoa,” Kenzi exclaimed on a low expulsion
of breath.

“You can also change the light level and
add soothing music if you like. All your favorite artists will be programed in
for your convenience but it’s easy to input new ones.” He laid the control on
the table. “The program helps to dispel the claustrophobia of being so far
below ground.”

She looked away from the mesmerizing scene
that seemed so real to take in the furniture. Everywhere she looked there was
something that grabbed her attention. From the red, green and navy-plaid dual
sofas flanking a fieldstone fireplace to the very comfortable-looking
overstuffed green chairs facing the roaring gas fire, the sitting arrangement
was exactly as she would have placed it and the upholstery what she would have
chosen. From the dark tables to the art on the walls—all of it was to her
liking.

“Kitchen is through there,” he said,
pointing to a door beyond the dark wood table and chairs that sat in one corner
of the room. “Everything you’ll need. I know you like to cook.” He walked to
the hallway. “The suite has two bedrooms but we’ve turned one into an office
for you.”

And what an office it was, she thought as
she joined him and peeked into the room. Again, everything was exactly as she
would have chosen it. The guest bath was in colors of celadon green and
burgundy.

“Your room,” he said, opening a door.

Kenzi sucked in a breath as she entered the
spacious room. There was an ornate king-sized brass bed with a patchwork
coverlet edged in ecru lace beside which were identical bedside tables with brass
urn lamps, a huge dark oak armoire facing the bed, a large chair with ottoman
and reading table at one end of the room, and at the opposite end, a wide pair
of French doors beyond which a wrought iron balcony had been placed. In front
of the French doors was a beautiful sofa flanked by floor lamps.